


Miracles

by DeVereWinterton



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Episode Related, F/M, First Time, Love, Romance, Smut, There's a lot of water
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 16:02:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13080378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeVereWinterton/pseuds/DeVereWinterton
Summary: Because Henry ‘coitus interruptus’ Fisher should have stayed the hell away from their second attempt at dinner during Death Defying Feats. He simply dashed the hopes of on screen sexy times! Also, there’s a lot of water here. It’s positively dripping. And burglary, but not quite. It’s a Christmas miracle!





	Miracles

**Author's Note:**

> Many’s the time the thought ‘That poor man!’ has crossed my mind whilst watching the series. Instead of taking pity on the poor sod, I just made it worse for him. Well, and better, eventually. I planned on writing quick smut, 1000ish words. But apparently, I'm no good when it comes to restrictions. So here you go: 4500 words. I purposely didn’t go into the history with Rosie and I tried to write something with actual dialogue, even though it still makes me cringe.  
> -DVW

**Miracles**

 

_‘Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall.’_

\- Escalus in _Measure for Measure_ , William Shakespeare

 

“Jack, you’re letting all the cold in.”

The aforementioned Jack stood, riveted to the spot on the tiled floor of his bathroom, his right hand -  holding his gun - hanging limply from his body as his left hand clutched the shower curtain in a white-knuckled-grip, threatening to rip it to pieces. His brain was telling his body to undertake certain action, but if only he could remember what it was he was supposed to be doing...

Oh, right. _Breathe_.

He took a big, gulping breath as air filled his lungs, the steam in the bathroom damp and clinging to his skin.

This was not what he’d expected to come home to after catching Miss Callahan at Mackenzie’s Cavalcade of Mysteries. He was torn between being overjoyed and terrified at this most recent development in their relationship.

* * *

 

After arresting Miss Eva Callahan, and the terrible fear of losing Miss Fisher that had preceded it, Jack had been quite ready for a quiet evening of brooding at home. His feelings were in utter turmoil, but then again; when hadn’t they been when he was around her?

He’d been upset (and possibly jealous) after their dinner appointment had been cancelled, and although he’d been annoyed at her presence when she’d showed up on the scene, part of him had craved her. Longed for her to be there. She didn’t disappoint. He’d been terribly embarrassed after finding himself in her bed, remembering only snippets of his tirade the night before. He didn’t think he could be any more embarrassed after finding out her supposed male companion was actually her father, but he’d been wrong. Realising she’d undressed him and - judging from the look on her face - had been quite pleased with what she’d uncovered, had made him blush all the way to his roots.

After making amends, he was ready to let bygones be bygones. He was still feeling uncomfortable about the fact that she’d seen him in a less than respectable state, but he felt certain this would fade with time. A small part of him was actually rather thrilled at her apparent desire to see him unclothed. She’d even offered to have dinner with him the following evening, and he found he was looking forward to it.

Having wrapped things up at the Station for now, and with Miss Callahan safely behind bars, he’d dismissed Collins and had headed home for a nice whiskey (although not as nice as hers) and a good book.

Finding his front door unlocked, however, all the tension rushed back into his body as he’d immediately taken out his gun upon entering the premises. The sound of running water had alerted him to the location of the perpetrator, although he did think it odd someone would take a shower whilst robbing his place. He’d bolted for his bathroom, ready to strike whoever had broken into his home, gun at the ready until he opened up the bathroom door and was struck in the face by a very familiar scent.

Jasmine, a hint of something else he couldn’t quite identify and a faint trace of French perfume; Le Fruit Defendu. He’d know that scent anywhere. It haunted his dreams. Obviously she’d decided to move the dinner party forward. He just wasn’t exactly sure what kind of party he suddenly found himself privy to.

* * *

 

“Miss – I – wha-” Apparently he was now capable of breathing, but no longer able to string coherent thoughts together, let alone sentences.

His mouth was hanging open, he realized, and he closed it with an audible snap, his teeth clattering. She, however, seemed to be in full control of her functioning vocal chords, damn her. He tried to focus on her face as she spoke, which was an immeasurable feat, not unlike Caesar’s subjugation of Gaul.

“The plumbing at Wardlow appears to be somewhat...on the fritz.” she told him over the sound of the running shower, almost conversationally, animatedly. “Mr. Butler insisted on remaining to call on the plumber first thing in the morning. Dot went to Alice and Cec’s for the night, but I was simply _dying_ for a shower after being locked up in that rather nasty water tank, as you can imagine. I dropped off my father at Aunt Prudence’s on the way. And well, here I am!”

Indeed she bloody well was.

Naked as the day she was born. In his shower.

Somehow, she managed to make him feel as though _he_ were the intruder in his _own home_.

He could only suspect she’d cornered one of his poor Constables at some point during their latest investigation for God only knew what purpose, pestering the poor soul into giving her his home address. He would make sure to suspend the offending culprit for the remainder of the week, as soon as he’d get back to the station. For a second there, he wondered if she’d made the whole thing up just so she could embarrass him...

At the moment however, there were more _pressing_ matters at hand.

Her back was turned to him as she looked at him over her right shoulder, an amused glint in her eyes, and he could just make out the curve of her right breast, shielded for the most part by her right arm. Not that he was looking. Water from the shower overhead cascaded down the front of her body, little droplets clinging to the ivory skin of her back. All the way down to the wonderful globes of her-

This was a dream, and he needed to wake up. Caesar apparently was a better man than he.

“I was rather hoping you’d join me.”

Yep, definitely dreaming.

Was this another invitation (he felt a strong sense of déjà vu), or was she just toying with him? He could never quite tell, although lately she did appear to be rather genuine when it came to her requests (demands). At first, he'd decided she was just trying to drive him insane for her own amusement, but lately something was off... There'd been a shift, highlighted by the casual invitation that had been extended to him to come over for dinner.  
  
There hadn't been a case leading up to the occasional dinner or drinks. There had been no actual reason for him to visit her for dinner. It had been, for all intents and purposes, a _date_. Oh, how he loathed that word.  
  
And damn her father for having thrown a spanner into the works.  
  
Just the other day when he'd taken her to lunch at a local cafe, something odd had occurred as well. They'd just wrapped up a case concerning a string of small burglaries that had taken place around new year's eve and they had felt the need to celebrate, bringing in the new year with a proper, hearty meal. While the friendly waitress took their order, however, he'd noticed something peculiar. He was a detective after all.  
  
He'd felt her eyes burning a hole into his left cheek from across the table as he gave the young, blonde woman his order, which she promptly scrabbled onto her notepad. Taking Miss Fisher's order, the aforementioned Miss flashed her a smile that was so fake, he could've detected it a mile off. Then, after having taken both of their orders, the waitress went to turn away but was stopped dead in her tracks by a brief but effective look that could probably freeze hell right over. A glare that had surely once been designed to wreak havoc upon poor, defenceless and unsuspecting children. Or waitresses, as it turned out. Jack pretended not to notice, but it had gnawed at him. The poor girl had barely dared to return with their food, leaving the billing to a male colleague and disappearing completely from the scene.  
  
Come to think of it; apart from her father, when was the last time she'd entertained a gentleman house guest that wasn't, well, him? Not that it was any of his business, of course, but-

“You see, I’ve been waiting for someone to lather up my back.” she stated, face turned back towards the tiled wall of the shower.

He’d bet money on it she’d done that on purpose to give him another good look of her arse.

Taking another look at said back at her mention of it, he noticed the slight and raised scar that ran from underneath her right shoulder blade, down to her hip to curve around it and disappear somewhere on the front of her body.  
  
It wasn’t covered up by make-up, and it was beautiful, because it was a part of her. Better yet; it was another part of her that he could identify with. Skin did not take well to shrapnel, and his left flank was a testimony of that fact.  
  
He supposed it was only fair he got to see her in a state of undress, after his unfortunate accident and her taking shameless advantage of the situation (well, not really, but he was a man who valued his own dignity a great deal), but this was rather like sensory overload to his system.  
  
He noticed, with mild embarrassment, the neatly folded pile of clothes on the floor on the far side of the small bathroom. On top of the pile was the golden bathing costume, taunting him. He almost felt a pang of disappointment at not having been present to peel it off of her body, hugging her like a second skin made out of scales. His cock hardened rapidly at just the thought of undressing her.

“Jack?”

Her soft utterance of his name snapped him out of his reverie as he closed the shower curtain and almost fled from the bathroom, leaving the door ajar.

* * *

 

Standing there, in his bedroom, he was unsure of what his next move should be. Placing his gun on top of the chest of drawers, he ran a shaky hand through his hair. Yes, he _wanted_ Phryne and Lord knew he wanted to _be with_ Phryne. He wanted to be with her all the time, and this was what concerned him. He was never quite sure what she wanted, or meant, and now she was here in his bloody bathroom? Naked, and taunting him, teasing him with parts of her that were not his to keep?!

Suddenly, he became angry. And painfully aroused.

It was ridiculous! This was his damned bathroom, his bloody shower, and he was going to tell her he was not to be trifled with.

Stripping off his clothes in quick and uncontrolled movements (nearly toppling over in the haste to get rid of his trousers), he made his decision then and there as he removed his smalls. His cock stood at attention proudly; he was so hard it curved towards his stomach. He stroked himself once, twice, closing his eyes. At least something was paying attention, Jack thought ruefully, because his mind was about as far gone as could be. He felt almost dazed with equal parts anger, arousal and admiration.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know it already, but by God, she had guts. Breaking into a policeman’s house, stripping bare...being vulnerable in more ways than one. Realising this, it took the edge off of his anger, if only ever so slightly, but he still was not pleased about her breaking and entering. He didn’t appreciate this little game of hers, either. And he would tell her so.

Re-entering the bathroom silently but no less determined, he yanked the shower curtain to one side, closing it behind him as he stepped into _his_ shower. His arms wound around her waist, the softness of her skin nearly sidetracking him, as he roughly pulled her to him; her back to his chest, her arse almost cradled in his groin, but not quite. She squeaked in surprise.

“I am rather curious as to how you managed to gain entry to my home, Miss Fisher.” he growled in her ear, his hands on her hips, stroking the skin he found there. Her skin erupted in goosebumps, he noted with dark satisfaction.

“Well, I _did_ study under The Great Levante.” she replied, not missing a beat, attempting to push her behind into him. He carefully avoided it by moving back ever so slightly, not quite ready to give in yet. Not when the sight of her, reaching for him, was too tantalizing. Desire was dripping from her every pore and he wanted to run his tongue all over her. His mouth watered.

“And what did this great sorcerer teach you, apart from how to escape from a water tank that has been nailed shut by an insane twin sister?” he asked, licking the shell of her right ear.

“All sorts of things, really. Although I was always most intrigued by his ability to make objects _levitate_.” she sighed, obviously having more and more trouble focusing, leaning into his firm body as his right hand found her breast, kneading the supple flesh. His large hand almost entirely covering her modest mound, his long fingers squeezing. It fascinated him. _She_ fascinated him.

“Really?” he grunted, as he ground his rock hard erection into the cleft of her arse, rubbing himself between those wonderfully firm cheeks for the first time. He pinched her nipple, increasing the pressure, causing her to squirm against him as a breathy moan escaped her.

He’d be lying if he were to declare he hadn’t been here before. The one big difference, however, was that she _hadn’t_ been here, and he’d been in bed with only his fantasies, hopes and dreams to keep him company.

“Yesss, _God_ , Jack. But I can tell you’re a natural at that.” she said, pushing back into him, pressing her buttocks against his groin. Her right arm wound its way around his nape as her left hand was placed on top of his on her hip. She started to grind her lovely behind into him, the water from the shower pouring down onto his head. Her motions caused his length to slip downwards as his cockhead nudged her folds. She was positively dripping and they moaned in unison upon the first contact of his weeping cock with her drenched slit.

“You're a shameless opportunist, Miss Fisher.” he managed to choke out.  
  
“You love it.” she stated, quite breathless herself.

God help him, he did.

He briefly wondered how many others had touched her like this, had known her in such an intimate way. Jack knew he was probably more invested in her already, because it wasn’t just his body or physical pleasure that was on the line here; it was his heart. He also hadn’t been intimate with a woman in over two years and suddenly felt terribly lacking, halting his movements, gritting his teeth against the heat that was threatening to consume him whole.

She immediately noticed something was amiss and turned in his arms, his erection pressed up between them, his insecurities probably written all over his face. She looked deep into his eyes and placed her right hand on his left cheek, palming his face, stroking it gently, her loving smile reassuring. She understood, he realised, and his heart fluttered in his chest.

She kissed him, then, and it took him by surprise. She pressed her chest against his, her firm breasts pushed into his pectorals, her nipples tight peaks, taunting him. After mere seconds, however, his brain caught up with his mouth as he reciprocated. She stroked the scarred skin of his left flank with so much respect and understanding, lovingly, and he felt like crying. Overwhelmed by the sudden feeling of kinship.

They both appeared to enjoy dominance - which came as no surprise to Jack - as their tongues duelled for control, for the upper hand in this locking of lips. His tongue swiped the roof of her mouth and she whimpered, pulling him closer, trying to merge their bodies merely by the touch of their skin. It was nothing like the kiss they’d shared at Café Réplique; although it had been nice, it had also been chaste and most of all, a diversion. This kiss was different; it wasn’t slow or sensuous, but he found he didn’t care. It was stubborn, demanding and passionate, just like her, and he was drowning in it. His worries started to melt away; he felt wanted, desired. She desired him, and it was enough to make his head spin. This was the kind of kiss that demanded immediate physical gratification.

She appeared to agree.

Separating, if only because the need to breathe became too great, he pressed his forehead against hers, panting, as he got a first (well, second, really) look at the front of her body. Her beautiful breasts, taut stomach, slim hips, the dark curls at the apex of her thighs...She apparently wasn’t as affected, or was simply much more proficient at hiding it, as she used his lack of focus (on anything really) to take him into her hand.

“Mmm, Jack...” she moaned, incredibly turned on by the fact that he was so aroused. That he was so hard for her, his considerable length so eager to please her. She told him as much against his lips. She wanted to make him feel as good as he was making her feel. He needn’t be insecure; she thought him perfect in every way.

“You are in _my_ shower, Miss Fisher.” he rumbled, trying to remain focused on the point he was trying to make. What was it again? She couldn’t quite fit her hand around him, but that didn’t deter her in the least as she began stroking him, her grip tight but wonderful, the pace demanding.

“You joined me.” she accused, as she cupped his balls with her one hand, stroking him with the other.

“You broke into my home.” he gasped, as she pressed her thumb into his slit, smearing his pre-cum over the swollen head. He grit his teeth against the onslaught, dropping his chin to his chest, watching her perfectly manicured hand as it stroked him, ivory skin against the red and purple of his cock. It was one of the most erotic things he’d ever seen.

“Jack, would you rather we continue this conversation now? Because _I’d_ rather you fuck me, if you don’t mind.” she stated, looking up at him as though she’d just asked him about the weather instead of cussing whilst having her dainty hand wrapped around his weeping length. Doing wicked things he despised and loved in equal measure.

“Phryne!” A warning, letting her first name slip, as she executed a particularly torturous downward stroke, then back up with a twist of her wrist. He wasn’t sure he would be able to hold back much longer. He also had the decency to blush at her colourful vocabulary, despite what she was doing to him.

“Jesus, _Phryne_ , I need-” He needed to be inside of her tight, wet body, that’s what! Fortunately, she appeared to understand his half-formed implications, even in this intimate kind of situation. Words, apparently, were overrated at this point and his body agreed wholeheartedly.

“Inside, Jack, _now_.” she ordered, as she let go of his manhood. He found he didn’t mind her bossing him around, given his current predicament.

Even though his brain wasn’t functioning in the least, Jack still wasn’t an idiot. He lifted her up by the backs of her thighs, and she hopped to assist him, wrapping her long legs around his waist. Pushing her up against the wall next to the tap, he positioned himself as she clutched at his shoulders for leverage.

“Protection?” he rasped, quite proud of himself to have considered this in his current state. Rubbing the head of his cock against her folds, lubricating himself with her moisture as she nodded, speechless and focused solely on the feeling of him at the core of her being. He inwardly rolled his eyes; of course she'd come to him prepared. She'd probably expected this outcome all along, cheeky minx. Then looking into her eyes as he pushed himself inside of her in one long, hard stroke, burying himself to the hilt inside of her quivering body.

She moaned, long and low and positively filthy. His feral growl in return was the only warning she got before he began pushing into her in firm, deep strokes, barely giving her the time to adjust.

The steady pace he set was almost relentless as he pounded into her body, the sound of the running shower unable to drown out the sounds of their hips slapping together. Her continuous moans weren’t exactly helping the matter either, but they aroused him beyond the point of caring about his reputation. She’d asked for him to fuck her, and who was he to deny a Lady’s eloquent request? In reality, he’d hoped their first time would be slow and sensual, much like the close waltz they’d been executing these past few years. But then again, it wouldn’t have been _realistic_ , considering the amount of sexual tension that had built up between them, coming to a head.

The sight of his hard cock disappearing inside of her trembling body was incredibly arousing, the bulbous head getting sucked into her soaking heat as though she were trying to devour him whole. Jack wanted, no, _needed,_ to see her come, and he needed to see it now. Later, there would be time for a slow seduction between his sheets...her sheets...other areas...Dear _God_ , he hoped there would be.

He pulled out almost entirely, then slammed back in, causing her to cry out. She was slippery, both on the inside and out, and he had somewhat of a difficult time holding on to her, but he managed. His grip tightened on her hips and for a split second he worried he might hurt her, but if anything, a little pain appeared to turn her on as she whimpered, closing her eyes. Her only rebuttal was the clawing at his back, but he found he didn’t care.

“Jack...”

Just his name falling from her lips in that normally so clipped, controlled and demanding voice...He needed to hear it again.

“My name. Say it again.” he demanded, pleaded, burying his head on the side of her elegant neck, biting her earlobe, pushing his short nails into the skin of her thighs. Pulling out again, until only the mushroom-shaped head was still inside of her, then pushing back in with one vicious thrust. She was just so hot, and slick and he couldn’t get enough of her. His heart was hammering against his ribcage, his lungs heaving as he gasped for air and his legs were burning, yet he’d never felt more at peace than he did now. Buried balls-deep inside the woman he loved.

“Oh God! Jack, Jack... _Jack_!” she actually wailed that final time.

“Tell. Me. You. Want. Me.” Each one of his uttered low growls in her left ear punctuated by a sharp, deep thrust of his hips, changing the angle of his thrusts ever so slightly, causing his rigid length to bump against her clit. His voice had by now dropped so many octaves he was fairly certain he would have to collect it from the tiled floor later on.

“Ngh, yes, only you! _Fuck_ , Jack! Like that...” She was almost delirious by this point; her head fell back against the tiled wall with a thump as she moaned uncontrollably, her walls clamping down on his hard cock.

“Look at me.” he rasped, needing to see her looking at him as she reached that illusive climax, pounding into her until his movements became a blur. Her back was scraping along the tiled wall and he was sure she would be sore by the morning, but if anything, the pain and roughness only seemed to make her moan harder, push back firmer and clutch him tighter with both her hands and her cunt. He could tell she was close.

She opened her eyes, having great difficulty focusing, her pupils so dilated he barely recognised the green-grey colour of her irises. His eyes bore into hers and their mutual look of longing, of love, thinly veiled by the more superficial arousal, turned him on even more, spurred him on to push her over the edge.

“Come, Phryne. _Now_.” he ordered on a particularly hard thrust as he rammed his cock inside her wet heat, removing his right hand from underneath her left thigh momentarily to press it into her clit, circling the wet bud and pinching it between his index finger and thumb.

She did, and it was glorious.

He’d wanted to smother the harsh cry that was forced from her throat, but he was too overcome by his own earth shattering orgasm to give a damn about anything or anyone, especially his neighbours. If anything, they’d be mortified by now, anyway.

As her muscles clamped down hard on him one final time, he let go with a roar, muffled by the biting of her shoulder. She keened as her body shuddered. Her cunt milked him for all he was worth as he shot long strands of his essence deep inside of her, pulsing and thrumming, until he was completely and utterly spent. Looking back, he wouldn’t have been surprised if he would’ve blacked out from the sheer intensity of it.

* * *

 

He was brought back to life, after what felt like an eternity, by the feel of a loving hand, stroking his hair, his unruly curls, the other holding onto him as her body was draped loosely around his. Her legs untangled from his hips as she stood on unsteady legs, his softening cock slipping from her body with a wet sound, immediately rinsed by the shower. He hissed as he turned away from the spray, his manhood still too sensitive.

For a while, the only sound was the running water and their heaving breaths as they held onto each other, hugging and leaning on another for support. And because they could be this close. Because they wanted to be this close. He loved the feeling of her naked body against his, spent, soft and oh so yielding. His hands held onto her hips, soothing and stroking the skin he’d probably bruised in his vice-like grip.

He kissed the top of her raven-haired bob, wet from the shower.

“I’ve dreamt about this. I’m still not sure how it became reality, though.” he murmured in her hair.

“Another mystery to solve then, Inspector.” she quipped, smirking against his throat (he could feel it and it amazed him), nuzzling the skin under his left ear.

“More like a bloody miracle.” he blurted out, rather unceremoniously.

She laughed, a genuine laugh, filled with mirth and joy as she lifted her head from their embrace. Their eyes met and he knew that, if he weren’t to drown in all of this water, he would gladly drown in her eyes. They were open, in more ways than one, and full of emotion: understanding, respect, admiration and what he hoped was love.

He knew it to be, because her eyes conveyed and mirrored his exact feelings for her. He smiled a smile that reached the far corners of his mouth.

She loved those smiles. She loved _him_.

“To miracles, then.” she spoke softly, tenderly, before leaning in to touch her lips to his.

**Author's Note:**

> I’d like to thank everyone for leaving such kind comments and kudos on my first story, Death of me, on AO3! It’s been such a warm welcome. I would like to say this story was inspired by all of you, but well, frankly, that would be odd as it’s smut. Also, I don’t write smut often because it always seemed like such a challenge to get it just right. But well, here goes then.


End file.
